House Call
by Athelstan
Summary: AU, modern universe. Grantaire shows up at Enjolras' door all battered and bruised from a fight with Montparnasse. Enjolras patches him up after Grantaire flat out refuses to go to the hospital.


**A/N: This is a follow up to my first fic, _Aftermath. _However, they do not need to be read together. Enjoy!**

House Call

The doorbell's shrill report rang through the house, making Enjolras jump. He hadn't expected a caller so late. He padded to the door, dressed only in his pajamas and house coat. He opened the door a little and gasped. Grantaire stood before him, covered in blood and dirt. Two fingers on his left hand were bent at awkward angles and a cut above his right eye oozed blood.

"Christ, Grantaire, what happened?" Enjolras asked, shooing his lush friend over the threshold and into his kitchen.

"Got into a fight with Montparnasse and his thugs." R grunted, clutching his ribs. He sat down gingerly on one of the bar stools, breathing heavily.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and got his first aid kit out. "What did you bait him with this time, Grantaire?"

"I didn't," Grantaire muttered, looking down. Enjolras nodded, not pushing it. He opened his small kit, divesting it of its gauze, iodine and small roll of medical tape.

"You really should've gone to Joly or Combeferre. I'm not at all prepared for this." Enjolras said under his breath.

"Our dear Joly refused to open the door, citing that he was sure he had contracted the bubonic plague." R's lips curled up slightly.

"And Combeferre?"

"Out."

Enjolras sighed. "I'm just going to patch you up a little and then take you to the hospital."

Grantaire shook his head. "No. I don't want to go to the hospital."

"Oh?" Enjolras quirked a brow as he moved about the kitchen, filling a small bowl with water and grabbing a dish towel from a drawer.

"I don't like hospitals. Plus, there's paperwork. And I don't like that either." Grantaire answered, a touch sour.

"Be reasonable, Grantaire. There's no way I can fix your fingers."

"Call Joly, he'll walk you through it."

"Like he'll answer the phone." Enjolras muttered, but went to grab his cell. He dialed Joly's number.

"Hello? Enjolras?" Joly's permanently distressed voice answered.

"Hey, Joly. I need you to talk me through something." Enjolras switched it to speakerphone so he could set it down.

"What is it?" The medical student sounded curious.

"I need to set Grantaire's fingers. It looks like Montparnasse took the boots to him."

"Oh, poor dear." Joly cooed, but immediately turned business-like. "Set his hand flat on the table or something."

Enjolras grabbed Grantaire's hand and spread it out on the wood surface. "Uh-huh, what next?"

"Grab one of his fingers. I'm assuming a lot of them are broken?" Joly sighed.

"Only two." Grantaire piped up, indignant. Enjolras grabbed the one that looked the worst and held it gently.

Joly's cheerful chuckle came through the phone. "Okay. Wait!"

"Yes?"

"Has he had any sort of painkiller?"

"No. I'm all out because you 'borrow' all of it." Enjolras rolled his eyes.

"Oh…well, then this is going to hurt a lot." Joly sounded worried again.

"Just get on with it. Or I'll crush your fingers." Grantaire murmured.

"Okay, Enjolras, grip the finger tightly and wrench it back into its natural position."

Enjolras' lips formed a thin line. He mouthed "I'm sorry" at R and snapped the finger. Grantaire howled, hot tears streaming out of his eyes.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Enjolras cried, chewing on his lower lip. Grantaire cradled his hand against his chest, tears cutting through the grime on his face.

"I know it hurts, R, but it'll be over soon. Just let Enjolras set the other finger." Joly's voice was soothing. Grantaire let out a shaky breath and put his hand on the table again. Enjolras grabbed hold of the second finger and wrenched. Grantaire's yell was interrupted by his teeth, turning into a hiss. Enjolras threw him an apologetic look as he stood up.

"Thanks, Joly. What should we do now?" He asked the medical student.

"Put a compress on the hand and leave it. That's all you can do." Joly said. "Say…why didn't you go to the hospital?"

Enjolras smirked. "Because R damn near pissed his pants when I suggested it."

Joly's laugh rang out. "Ah yes. Grantaire, our resident nosocomephobic."

Grantaire looked sour. "Shut up."

"Thanks again Joly. We'll take it from here." Enjolras grinned.

"Anytime." Joly hung up.

Enjolras walked to the freezer and grabbed a cold compress. He walked back over to the table and gently set it on Grantaire's hand. His normally marble-esque face was softened by a look of compassion. He picked up the cloth, dipped it in the bowl of warm water and began to dab at the cut above R's eye.

Soon, the water in the bowl was red. Enjolras picked up a gauze pad and dripped a little iodine on it.

"I'm sorry, Grantaire, but this is going to sting." He bit his lip and touched the pad to the cut. A hiss came through Grantaire's clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry, but the wound needs to be cleaned." Enjolras swiped the pad across the cut, eliciting another hiss. He stood up and walked over to the garbage, dropping the gauze into it. He opened another drawer and pulled the scissors out. He unrolled a length of cotton bandage and snipped it off. He slathered some Neosporin on it and stuck it to R's forehead. He cut two pieces of medical tape off and secured the bandage.

"All done." Enjolras said, starting to pack up his kit.

"Thanks," Grantaire murmured. His face was flushed and beads of sweat stood out on his brow. His blue eyes, usually sharp, were glazed over with pain. Enjolras looked at his friend in pity, and then pulled him into a gentle hug. Grantaire's arms snaked around Enjolras' middle and he pressed his face into the blonde's chest. Enjolras ran his hand through R's wild black curls, smoothing them down.

They stayed entwined for awhile, the follower leaning on the leader. Enjolras reluctantly broke the embrace.

"You aren't going back to your place tonight, R. You can take my bed, and I'll sleep on the chesterfield."

Grantaire put up a token protest, but practicality won out. Enjolras put an arm around Grantaire's waist and pulled him up. They hobbled slowly towards Enjolras' bedroom.

Once inside, Enjolras gently set Grantaire on the bed. He smirked a little at the dark haired man, and then got down on one knee to undo his friend's shoes and pull them off. Grantaire gave a hoarse chuckle. "I never thought I'd ever see my fearless leader on his knees for me." He teased.

Enjolras smiled. "Keep dreaming. If you weren't in such bad shape, I'd cuff you for that."

"Ooh, cuffing? That sounds kinky."

"Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Sorry, it's taken up a permanent residence there."

They chuckled quietly.

Enjolras smirked again. "Can you handle your pants, or do you need me to divest you of those too?"

"I'm sure I can handle stripping myself, but by all means Enjolras." Grantaire's smile lit up his face.

Enjolras snorted and stood up. "If you need it, there is a bottle of Ambien in the drawer."  
"Thanks, but I think I'll fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow."

Enjolras swooped down and pressed a soft kiss to R's forehead. Grantaire smiled and closed his eyes.

"Goodnight, Enjolras."

"Goodnight, Grantaire."

* * *

**A/N: Well, that's all! Hope you enjoyed it! Please feel free to tell me what you liked or didn't like; I welcome con crit!**

**Thank you! **

**-Paige**


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